


A Blendin Time

by PineWreaths



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Mr. Meeseek - Freeform, Reverse Falls AU, rick sanchez - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4919563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineWreaths/pseuds/PineWreaths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blendin Blandin makes good on his threat: To go back in time and make sure those meddlesome Pines twins were never born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Blendin Time

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of this prompt: "“ A “Back to the Future”-like tale, as caused by Blendin Blandin. After things go badly for him again, he again blames the twins and followed through on his threat from Season 1 to find their parents and make sure they never meet.”

For the fourth time in three time-days, Blendin had to clean up after the Pines twins. As usual, they’d cheated death, this time from a- _Exploding mountain? Why am I not surprised?_ \- and Blandin was given Butterfly Duty to help clean up the time ripples they’d caused and not caused by still being alive.

He’d zipped to Florida to catch a man about to fall off an overpass two months later, teleported to Montana to start an avalanche in four years, moved to London and gave a few encouraging words to a woman in a bar who would eventually become not only minister of the UN but also inheritor to a very interesting and dangerous trove of weapons in a few decades, and after consulting his Chaosometer and swearing, returned to Montana to save a family who was out skiing from the avalanche so their son could go on to do little of purpose aside from raise what would turn out to be a very “gifted” dog.

Then Blendin was able to head home to the year 207̃012, where almost as soon as the timerush fled from his ears he could hear “Hey Blandin, there’s another anomaly in Antarctica, circa 2060; Another of yours. Man, those kids sure get around,” the Paradox Avoidance Enforcement agent said with a chuckle.

Blending could feel an internal scream build, but managed to throttle most of it to a high-pitched “Eeeeeeeeergh.” He took a long, deep breath, counting slowly like his time-counselor had said from 1 to e^2, before letting out the breath.

_That was it. That was the last straw. I’m-_

“You’re what, Blandin?” the PAE agent said, raising a suspicious eyebrow. Blendin cursed silently, which came out loud through the little speaker near his wrist he had forgotten about. Having abandoned crude and temporally-laughable GPS bracelets long ago, they now used the far-more-ethically-ambiguous thought bracelets to keep tabs on probationary individuals like Blendin.

He grabbed his coat, forgot that he didn’t have one, but stumbled out the door anyways with a “Gottahavemysmokebreak, bye!” as the PAE officer started to stand and say “Hey, we don’t get smoke breaks anymore-” but Blendin was already out and sprinting down the street.

He followed the mental map, rolling his eyes and attempting to muffle the bracelet as it repeated the street names as he thought through his direction of travel. Finally, he pulled up short, near a little black-market shop he’d used before, and ducked inside.

Yeah yeah yeah, whattya-whattya want, Blendin,” came the slurred voice from inside. He looked up, surprised again at how much  _hair_  the shopkeeper had, before stumbling out “I-I-I need a dopple-a doppleganger, and pronto, mister!”

The store owner rolled his eyes, letting out a hiccuping burp as he rooted around in a box, and pressed a button on the side of an odd cube. There was a puff of smoke, which caused Blendin to enter a loud coughing fit; Ever since the twins had accidentally sent him into that Egyptian sandstorm, Blendin had an edge of something the archaeo-medical texts had dubbed “AST-MA,” and the texts had advised him to keep away from whatever “cats” were.

As he waved around the last of the smoke, he could see the shopkeep, “Richie” he was pretty sure his name was, adjusting a bad wig on an even worse costume. The blue-faced alien in the getup gave Blendin a cheerful smile and wave, but Richie pushed it towards the door and told it to run, before turning back to Blendin.

“Alright, that sh-should buy you some time, bub,” he said, leaning back in his creaky chair. “Go ahead and do your timey-whatever stuff, but remember, if you get caught, you never met me, capiche?”

Blendin nodded enthusiastically, and then pulled back his tape measure to a familiar marking, one that he’d nearly worn into his tape:  _2015._

There was a flash of light, and the time traveller disappeared from the shop. Outside, there was a distant cry of  _“Look at me!”_  and the shouting of PAE agents as they gave chase, and then the nearly-empty shop was quiet again.

 

 

Blendin arrived off of the accursed Mystery Shack, and ducked behind a set of trees and waited. Blendin was good at waiting, and was rewarded by a cry of  _“Happy Birthday!”_  after a set of singing coming from the open window. He poked his head up for a moment, and could see the twins, heads ducked over a blazing cake, the number ‘13’ burning merrily.

_Perfect. So that means I just need to make it to this “Ucee Davize” place, and I know exactly how far back I need to go._

With another puff of smoke, the time traveler vanished again.

 

 

Thirteen years ago, a scream is heard from a closed bedroom. A frantic voice says “I-I-I’m sorry, it was an accident. I just-I just wanted to-”

A furious male voice can be heard replying to the frantic one, saying “You wanted to  _what,_  exactly, you no-good pervy-”

“I just wanted to like throw a rock at your window, or pull a fire alarm or something. I didn’t mean to-”

“Get  _OUT!”_  shrieked a female voice, this one shrill but carrying all the weight of a textbook to the back of the head should the intruder continue lingering.

There is the sound of a door slamming, someone using a particular string of curse words that express both utter humiliation as well as satisfaction at achieving a goal, words which won’t be heard for another 145 millennia, and then a puff of smoke.

From behind the again-closed door, a low male voice says awkwardly “So, uh, are you still interested in-”

The disappointed female voice cuts him off. “Sorry, but after that, I’m…I’m not really in the mood.”

There is silence from the closed room once again.

 

 

In the present, Dipper had just grabbed Mabel’s present to him when he started, looking at his sister.

“Uh, hey M-Mabes,” he said, a stutter of worry hitting his voice as he thinks he recognizes what’s going on. “Did-did you do something with your hair?”

His sister looks up, brow furrowed in puzzlement, and she looks back to her hair as she follows her brother’s worried gaze. “Whoa, cool!”

Part of her hair has become transparent- _No, scratch that, nonexistent,_  Dipper thinks as he watches her giggle and pass a finger through the gap in the clump of hair, the strands below the gap still suspended like there was anything in-between but air.

_Oh no. Oh nononono. I was afraid of this._

“Uh, Mabel, there’s a gift you  _really_ need to see with me. Like, right now. Alone,” Dipper said, pulling his sister after him as Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, and Soos gave them puzzled looks. He led Mabel up the stairs, nearly at a run, and let out a squeak of fear as he saw part of his ear in the hall mirror had gone missing as well.

As Mabel was standing in the doorway, confused and annoyed, Dipper quickly and anxiously checked the supply box he had under his bed, finally finding a picture he was looking for and stuffing the sheet of paper into her hands as he led her back down at a run to Grunkle Stan’s office.

“Dipper, I don’t get it; What’s so special about an old picture of Blendin’s time-tape?”

Dipper wrenched open the door, leading his twin inside before slamming it shut. He turned to her, catching his breath in gasps as he said “Mabel, I think Blendin finally made good on his promise, and made sure we never happened,” he said, gesturing between the two of them.

The light went on, and Mabel let out a low  _“Ooohhh,”_ of understanding and sudden worry. “So, um, brobro, what the heck can we  _do?”_

He grinned, took the sheet of paper from her, and said “We can go convince Blendin that the Pines twins are  _indispensable._ ” Dipper then turned, and fired up his Grunkle’s old copy machine as he slapped the picture down in the scanning tray.

 

 

Blendin had just gotten back to the blackmarket pawn shop when his Chaosometer started beeping frantically. He had expected this; After all, erasing some fairly-adventurous people from time never went unnoticed.  _Still,_ he thought, as he sighed and pulled his tape out to match the flashing date, _I didn’t think ripples were able to go backwards in time._

He arrived to find the twins, hunched over an open metal container. The container was oddly-sturdy, and looked like it’d been pulled out of a rack of other containers, of similar design but various sizes. Mabel was just finished scotch-taping a bright pink  _“Mabel was Here”_  sign, made of pink construction paper, to a long metal wire, before folding it back into the box, closing it, and wedging it back among the others.

Just then, a clattering of footsteps had the twins scuttle off to one side and Blendin to the other, as a few jumpsuited individuals came up and wheeled the set of boxes off down a hallway. Dipper had noticed the time-traveler, and nudged his sister, saying “Hey there, Blendin. Looking for us?”

Blendin narrowed his goggle-clad eyes, saying “I’ve had enough of you two, and your shenanigans. This was your last prank; Heck, your timelines are already self-correcting!” His tone became triumphant, as Mabel groaned with annoyance; Part of her shoulder had gone clear, and she had a short bob of hair now that so much had vanished.

Dipper merely grinned predatorily back at Blendin, ignoring his almost-gone arm, and he said, “Oh, we’re nowhere near done yet. Also, I think the headline for the newspaper in a few days will be _fascinating,_  don’t you think Mabel?”

She grinned as well, giggling as Dipper grabbed her, pulled the tape out a set distance, and they vanished.

Blendin finally had a moment to take in his surroundings, a nagging feeling that he was in over his head cropping up quiet loudly, as his eyes fell on where the twins were.

There was a crumpled flag in a little heap, with a design he recognized as that of the American design before they submitted to the will of the Time Baby..

Confused, he looked up, and saw on the wall a logo for something that made his heart jump to his throat: _“National Aeronautics and Space Administration, Cape Canaveral, United States of America.”_ The date on his time-watch,  _“July 15 1969,”_  just confirmed that fear, as a new memory suddenly sprang into place from his days in the time-correction academy:

_“And this, this here is a perfect example of why you cannot let someone with malicious intent get a hold of a time-tape device. Playful fun and shenanigans already causes enough trouble, but with the right moments in history, someone can cause devastation like THIS!”_

_His drill instructor had slammed their fist against the wall, pointing towards the slide of the hilariously infamous picture in the grainy black-and-white newspaper, and said in a low voice “If I ever get my hands on the worthless agent that let this happen, they will wish they’d never filled in the form electing to be born.”_

Blending swallowed, and when his Chaosometer blared out the loudest warning he had heard it produce yet, he just pulled out his tape and followed the twins back.

 

 

“-I’m just telling you, this whole ‘thinking about the nature of thought’ dealio is overrated. What you need to do, my friend, is start making some gyros, start the craze a couple millennia early; Whattya say?”

Blending blanched as he saw Mabel shoulder-to-shoulder with a toga-clad Grecian, one who looked far too familiar from the various surviving sculptures and time-portraits he’d seen. Worse, Socrates appeared to be actually considering the idea, murmuring “You know, I  _have_  been wondering if people would be interested in what all I can do with some lamb and spices.”

Blendin let out a screech, coming at Mabel like a banshee as she ducked out of the way, his hand passing through the huge gap in her arm. She and her brother were almost halfway gone, swaths of their arms, legs, and torsos missing. Dipper’s head was disconcertingly half-invisible now, as he glared at Blendin.

“Last chance; Keep us in the picture, or we’ll keep making more work for you than you can ever clean up.”

Blendin growled a “Never!” at them as he dove, and managed to grab what little was left of Dipper’s ankle as the twin pulled the tape, and all three vanished in a puff of smoke.

As he let out a bemused “Huh” at their departure, Socrates heard his name being called as Plato came up, a stylus and tablet ready for the next lesson. Socrates laughed, and told him to put it away. In reply to his pupil’s confused look, he put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“My boy, forget all that; I’ve got a b _usiness venture_ to propose to you…”

 

 

The three time travelers arrived in a puff, and Blendin looked around, confused. They were somewhere on a grassy plains, possibly in Africa if he had to guess. He looked at them confused, and there was a crack of thunder from the grey skies. A bolt of lightning lanced down, slamming into the earth and making them all jump, but after an initial flare the damp grass and drizzle wetted down most of the resulting flames.

Most, except for one stubborn tongue of fire. It flickered, and Blendin could see a troupe of some sort of tall monkeys in the distance, as one of them-

As one of them started cautiously approaching the fire.

Blendin let out a squeal of primal fear as he realized what the twins intended, scrabbling in the mud to try and get to his feet as Dipper strode over to a puddle, dipped his hat into it, and too the slowly-leaking improvised bowl of water over to the fist-sized ball of flames.

He stopped, looking up at Blendin as the Chaosometer made an ungodly electronic squeal before self-detonating in a little crackling puff of sparks. Blendin stumbled forwards a few steps, but stopped when Dipper made a threatening gesture with the bowl, water sloshing dangerously close to the fire.

He held up a placating hand, exhausted as he said “Fine…fine. You win. Just-fine. I’ll stop myself, all right?”

The twins, now little more than heads, turned and nodded. Dipper said cautiously “But Blendin, if you don’t stop yourself from trying to off us, we’ll disappear, and nobody will be left to hold up my had.” Blendin scrabbled for his time-tape ,as he’d noticed Dipper’s had had begun to grow small holes in it as well, and with a defeated groan, Blendin disappeared back to the future.

 

 

“-you never met me, capi _SHIT!”_  Richie dove out of the way as Blendin arrived, tackling his past self before he could grab his time-tape.

“Aw, crap,  _more_  time-traveler weirdness. Screw this, I’m gonna go get a drink,” he said, ducking into a back room of the shop as the two Blendins wrestled for the time tape. The past Blendin managed to get the upper hand for a moment, looking suspiciously at the newcomer, but then the new Blendin held up a hand.

“I can verify it’s me, er us! The incident on Junepril 32nd 207̃001 at Hargy’s Meathaus is the reason you can’t eat grape pudding in mixed company anymore!“

There was an awkward pause, as both Blendins shuddered in unison at the memory, and then the old Blendin nodded. "Fine, what happened? What do I need to avoid doing?”

New Blendin sighed, and said regretfully “We, uh, we can’t prevent the Pines twins from existing.”

“What?  _Why?_  They made our lives miserable!”

“No, they made our lives  _relatively_ miserable,” New Blendin said, pulling out his devastated Chaosometer. “Have you ever seen a Chaosometer break like this?”

The old Blendin eyes it suspiciously. “No; It looks like it was ran over by multiple trucks.”

New Blendin sighed. “I  _wish.”_

_“Oh.”_

“Yeah.”

He could tell that old Blendin had accepted his argument, because he was starting to fade out of existence as the reason for his jaunt through time ceased to exist. “Just remember, you can’t remove the twins from existence. No matter how annoyed you are, if they disappear, our lives-our _life_ becomes hell.”

Old Blendin nodded, rolling his eyes a bit, but thinking about puppies to distract his babbling thought wristband as he watched his duplicate disappear, until they were alone. Then, he turned, his mind whirring as he pulled out his Timescanner. It was currently displaying an idyllic scene from pre-humanity Greenland, but he pulled open a slot on the back, inserting a  _highly_  illegal crystal he’d bought from Richie a few months ago.

The screen flickered, and he flicked through it until he found the view he was looking for, the screen winking a faint  _“Dimension 83 &(”_ in the lower right. It was of the Pines twins from a parallel dimension; These ones were serene and collected instead of sticky and wild, soft-spoken and delicate instead of screaming and flailing.

His previous self hadn’t said he couldn’t  _replace_  the Pines twins with fitting substitutions, and these ones should do nicely, even if they did seem to weirdly prefer the color blue.

 

 

“Did you feel it, brother?”

“I did, dearest sister. Your trap was well-laid, and the bait taken.”

“Of  _course_  it was; I set the trap after all.”

“Just try to make this one last a little longer. You,  _heh,_  "broke” our own traveler far too quickly for us to get the information we needed.“

There was an irritated hiss, but it was broken by a brief, passionately cold kiss and an accompanying snicker. Dipper Gleeful stroked his glowing broach, smiling as his sister laid a perfectly-manicured arm on his shoulder.

"But I have confidence in you, my dear sister. This time, this one will tell us what we want.”


End file.
